Middle Earth: Chronicles of Mordor
by BadOrk11
Summary: A collection of stories featuring the countless Uruks and Ologs that were encountered during the conquest for Mordor. (M-Rating just in case)
1. Chapter 1

_For every one tale that stands the against the tests of time, there are many more so easily lost throughout the ages. _

_For every great hero, or villain, whose rise to legend are echoed eternally, there are others, whether they be friends, followers, or loyal right hands, that are simply in left the shadows._

_However, this will NOT be one of those times. Instead of a single tale, about two souls paired together to fight a growing darkness, this will be a series of tales._

_Tales about those who have had stories of their own as their lives were influenced by a _**BRIGHT LORD; **_be they for better or worse..._

_These are the tales of both Uruks and Ologs_

_These, are the Chronicles of Mordor..._

Fancy, isn't it?

I've finally emerged from my long hibernation with a little something that, I'd figured, would be a perfect way to break ice! Quite frankly I'm surprised that no one else has ever tried something like this before. You would figure that given how Shadow of Mordor/Wars' Nemesis System were meant to memorable friends, and foes, there would be tons more stories and tales about these quirky characters.

But NOPE! Well except for this one crossover I found, but we'll discuss that another time...

So recently I thought it'd be fun to, properly, go through Shadow of War to fully experience the Nemesis System to its fullest. Heck it wasn't until I had just conquered my first fortress, and went about gathering up more followers, while hunting down enemies, that this idea struck me! So here we are with me jotting down just about any little thing that happens during my playthrough of Shadow of War, and all of it centering around the, somewhat, lovable host of Uruks and Ologs that I meet!

From a look into their lives, sometimes before and after I came along, to their impact on the world of Shadow of War as the story goes on. With some fluff here and there to spice things up of course.

Without further ado, this is Badork11 saying; 'ERE WE GO BOYZ, WAAAGH!


	2. The Unashamed Hobgoblin

Hobgoblin

Nakra the Hobgoblin...

That was his name once. Back then he was just a simple Uruk who had made his way to rank of Captain through the overwhelming force of his pets and striking when his enemies where none the wiser of what was creeping up from behind. Being out in the wilds of Núrn only made things all the more easier. Beasts everywhere you looked; no one would suspect an ambush from a cur, like him, looking to get ahead by any means necessary. That was he was given the nickname, 'Hobgoblin'. Meant to be more as an insult from those who saw his actions to be no different than those of a goblin; vermin that tried to pretend they were orcs but refused to fight unless they had the upper hand. He did not care though, it suited him just fine with how things went.

With all that said however, he should have known better that some glob would try to beat him at his own game. And that glob had a name; Rug Bone-Licker.

It was a bright day when it all went down. Nakra, and his boys, had just gotten back to camp to rest themselves and his Caragors; planning out who would be next to hit when they were set upon by more Caragors! If that was not enough, those beasts had a small host of grunts right behind them, yelling and swinging their weapons in the air. Things could have gotten ugly if his pets had not jumped in between him and the attackers.

As beasts slammed into one another, clawing and snarling with pure savagery, the two groups of grunts were trying to find a way around without getting pulled into the bloody mass of teeth and claws. It was when a spear flew right over them and into one his boys that the Hobgoblin got a good look at who was behind ambush. A lanky hunter sneered right back at Nakra as he weaved back and forth in the bushes, trying to find a new angle for another throw. Like he would even give the gûb a chance.

To be quite frank, he did not know if Rug just happened to fight the same way he did, albeit from a farther distance, or if he thought that trying to copy the Hobgoblin would somehow work in his favor.

He had just made his way around the Caragors when he noticed Bone-Licker had stopped paying attention to him. Instead Rug seemed more focus on something that was right behind him. That was when **HE** had arrived. The one who would change him from what he WAS to who he is NOW.

Nakra had heard the stories. Stories about some kind of, 'phantom' pink-skin Ranger running around and either slaying Uruks or bewitching them with some sort of foul Elf magic. Well, here he was and it looked like this Tark was itching to pick a fight with both of them. Hell, it looked like he and Rug had already met before, seeing as how Bone-Licker was shouting and cursing at him about being 'shamed' if he heard correctly.

Looking back on it, he had also heard about how Rug was seen wallowing around with his own Caragors while nursing a hand print that had been seared into the side of his face. Anyone who got a good look at it pretty much mocked him endlessly, right up till they were torn to shreds by his pets.

If that was the case, then the entire ambush was him not only taking his hate out on someone else, but also an attempt at trying regain some of that lost respect. Too bad for him now, since he was stuck between a rock and a hard place; if that was how humans put it.

The fight, if the way the Ranger was dancing around Bone-Licker could even be called one, was over before Nakra could get in too many swings with his blade. It did not help that the mess going on with the Caragors and grunts had been resolved and now the survivors were heading straight for all three of them. Just as the Hobgoblin took a swipe at one of the surviving ambushers, the Tark suddenly had Rug on his knees with a hand pressed right up against his face.

And just like that the pink-skin suddenly let the hunter run off before he himself was bolting away from the battle with speed that only a starving Caragor could match, leaving Nakra and the rest of his boys to clean things up. Thankfully the rest of the globs had lost the fight in them when their leader had turned tail. Despite how messy things had gotten in the beginning, he had managed to come away from the whole thing with just a few cuts that he had gotten whenever the Tark turned around to face him. Add that with some extra gear his lads looted off from the corpses and the Hobgoblin could almost forgive what had happened. Almost...

It would not be but a few days later, while mulling around the outskirts of an outpost, that he spotted him again.

The Ranger was skulking around some ruins, cutting up a grunt here and there, when Nakra seized the chance and tackled him into the dirt! Oh the pure look of shock one the humans' face as he was held down while the Caragors closed in. Of course the slippery pashk had managed to throw him off, and avoid the teeth of a leaping beast, but the Hobgoblin hand him surround with no chance. Even when he, somehow, summoned his own beast, it was quickly taken care of and the poor bastard was on his last legs.

And that was when a spear suddenly lodged itself into one of the Cargors' neck.

It was Rug! The dirty glob had appeared from nowhere, with his own pack, and was actually HELPING the Tark! What madness was this?! The last time all three were together Bone-Licker was cursing up a storm and trying to poke as many holes as he could into him! Just what the shrakh was going on here?!

In the confusion of it all the entire area was engulfed in flames! Guess a grog barrel had been spilled over before getting lit up somehow. Unfortunately for Nakra it was the Rangers' time to turn things around as the pink-skin tackled HIM right into the fire. As if being burned in flaming grog was not bad enough the Tark placed his hand on Nakras' face.

His entire world changed that day.

Instead of a man, the haunting shriveled up face of a Elf was glaring down at him. Down into his very soul even! He could not move nor say a word, the hand SEARING into his flesh in a way that was worse than fire. All of that nearly nothing compared to the voice.

**You are not worthy of my blade, worm!**

Now the searing pain on his face flooded into his mind and all he could do was SCREAM! It must had been enough as the Wraith, there was no other way to describe that THING, released its' hold. Nakra did not waste a moment and ran from that inferno; scarred in more ways than one.

The sun had not even reached halfway across the sky when the Hobgoblin stumbled back into his secret campsite. The pain would not go away and he could not rid his mind of the horrifying visage of what he was subjected to. Worse of all, he had been humiliated the same way that piece of shrakh Rug had been. Every single glob in Núrn would see the mark and never let him hear the end of it. They would probably even compare him to Bone-Licker, no maybe even worse! He was ruined!

...

...

No...

No...

NO!

Not ruined. Not the same way Rug was. That traitorous worm was so far gone that it was obvious he WENT to the Wraith in some SAD attempt to not fall apart into a quivering mess. Yes, that had to be it. In fact the two of them teaming up was only reason this had even happened in the first place. It was so obvious!

He had the Tark RIGHT where he had him! If that whimpering fool had not gone crawling to him for some sad excuse of aid, Nakra would have been parading BOTH of their corpses through Sharkhburz and right into the Overlords' throne room. He could have been richly rewarded, he could have been made Warchief! BUT NO! Instead he had been shamed in what had to be an attempt to FORCE him to change sides.

THAT WAS IT! That was how he was 'bewitching' others to join him! Shame them until those fools had nowhere else to go but to him! Well not him; not Nakra Hobgoblin!

...

No... not Hobgoblin. Not anymore... After what had happened he could never go back to his old title. It was given to him as an insult, and keeping it would only reaffirm that when the others saw what had become of him. No, it was time for a new name. A name in which every single Uruk and Olog would know that he would NOT let ANYTHING every bring him down to the same level as those traitors. A name that would show that he could weather throw whatever was thrown at him, for he would throw it back tenfold!

Nakra Hobgoblin had died that day in his duel against the Ranger.

In his place, Nakra the Unashamed would rise to show the Tark what a horrible mistake he had made...


End file.
